Life Goes On
by Diva Actress
Summary: I don't want to give away too much....so please r&r. Mark is main character. Rating for some inapropriate words.


This is another one-shot that might get turned into a story that was running around in my head. I hope you all like it! Disclaimer: Thank you Jonathan Larson!

Life Goes On

It was the funeral of Collins, the last of the bohemians to die from AIDs. Mark stood there at the grave site. He sighed. Next to Collins' grave was Angel's, on Angel's other side was Mimi. Roger was buried with Mimi in a joined grave they had somehow managed to pay for. Mark sighed again looking at the tombstones where most of his friends lay at rest. "I miss you all," he said. Maureen and Joanne had already left, as their flight back to Baltimore took off within the hour. Mark had remained there alone, after paying the church for the funeral services for his friend. Wiping a tear off his cheek, he turned to leave. "Bye," he said to the deceased. In silence Mark walked back to the loft. He had packing to do. "Shit," he said, "how the hell could all this have happened so soon?"

At the loft, Mark gathered his few belongings and put them into suitcases. He wouldn't sell the loft; he had already decided that, he was however moving. The loft contained too many memories of years past, of years with Angel, and Mimi, Roger and Collins. Mark glanced at his watch, "Shit," he sighed. It was already 10:30 pm now, and his flight left at 8am the next morning. He wasn't sure where he was all going to go, but his first stop was Santa Fe. He moved his suitcases by the door, crept back to his room, and curled up on the bare mattress. Soon he fell into a fitful sleep filled with visions of "famous" bohemian moments.

The next morning his watched beeped him awake at 4:30. He groaned as he rolled over, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. Groggily he walked into the almost empty apartment. A pang of grief hit him as he remembered yesterday. Mark truly was alone, he knew it. Even Benny had someone, which is more than Mark could say. After making himself some tea, he packed what was left out from the night before.

At 6am he climbed ruefully into a cab. "Jefferson International Airport," he told the driver. The driver nodded and put up the meter. After the drive, Mark waited an hour to board his plane. He sat there with his camera in hand. People started settling in the chairs around him, he remained still. "Flight 665 to Chicago, now boarding," announced the attendant. Mark stood in a mechanical way. He walked through the tunnel that extended to entrance of the plane. He sighed and sat in his seat, preparing for the flight. A blonde attendant approached him.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked.

"No," Mark replied, staring straight ahead. The attendant smiled at him and continued on her way. Mark fell into a fitful sleep as the plane took off. Once more his dreams were filled with visions of the past. Of that New Years Eve, and of Maureen's performance. Of the Christmas parties they had had.

"I'm sorry sir, we'll be landing shortly," the blonde attendant said, rubbing his shoulder gently. Mark nodded, and she proceeded to go down the row waking others.

Mark was forced to wait in Chicago as heavy rain had delayed his flight to Dallas. He wandered the airport aimlessly as he waited to board the flight. He had the stop in Dallas, and then he would arrive in Santa Fe. He clutched his camera bag to him as he sat down in one of the plastic chairs. An hour later, he was able to board the plane. During this flight, he stayed awake, and remembered his friends. In the seat next to him was a girl who appeared to be a teenager looking frightened. "You okay?" he asked her.

"I hate flying," she said meekly. "What about you, you look like someone ran over your dog."

"I'll be okay." Mark continued the conversation in hopes of keeping the young girl's mind from the fact that they were now multiple thousand miles in the air. "Where are you headed?"

"Las Angles, I'm visiting my dad there. I live with my mom most of the year; I spend my summers with my dad, unfortunately. Where are you going?" she asked her eyes curious.

"Santa Fe, my friends and I always talked about opening a restaurant there."

"Oh, so are you meeting your friends there?"

"No, I'm solo. My friends, they uh, they couldn't come."

"Why not?" When she saw Mark's eyes glaze over with tears, she immediately regretted this question. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you." Mark rubbed his eyes.

"Its fine, you couldn't have known. So why don't you like spending the summers with your dad?"

"He's never home, and I spend my time alone in my room. He doesn't really see me, and he has no clue what I like."

"What is it that you like?"

"Well, I like listening to music, but not rap or stuff like that. I'm more of a classical music type of girl. He still thinks I play soccer as I did when I was six. I haven't played soccer in nine years. He has no clue that I'm a lesbian, or that I'm the vice president of the drama club."

"Where is he all the time?"

"He's usually at work, and I'm usually baby-sat by someone."

"Attention everyone," the attendants voice rang through the P.A. system, "we will be landing momentarily, please fasten your seat belts and place your trays and seats in the up-right position."

"I'm Marina by the way," the girl said. "Thanks for keeping my mind off the plane."

"It wasn't a problem; I'm Mark." The two shook hands as the plane started to descend. Marina gripped the arm-rests with ferocity.

**Insert Line Here**

The next day Mark checked in to a hotel. For a couple weeks he filmed some stuff in Santa Fe, and enjoyed the great restaurants available. He was still unsure where exactly he was going next. Mark sat in an office waiting, the week before he had entered a tape in a contest. "Mark Cohen?" the secretary asked. He stood and walked to the desk. The secretary pointed him to the door. He entered.

"Mr. Cohen, it is a pleasure to meet you," said a guy in a suit. "We were very impressed with your film documentary "Today For You". We would like to hire you as a member of directors. You seem to have a realness about your work that we have yet to see." He slid a contract across the table top. Mark picked it up and read it over. It was an almost free lance contract stating for the next two years he wouldn't sell his films to anyone but that company. Mark picked up the pen and signed. He already was cutting a film together, this one titled, "No Day But Today".

**Insert Line Here**

Alright, please let me know what you think, and if I should continue it or not. I send my love! Diva


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